


The Stolen Laughters of a Budding Flower

by pyblos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Terminal Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyblos/pseuds/pyblos
Summary: hanamaki was never one to back down, but the truth he uncovers is a hard truth to swallow
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader
Kudos: 3





	The Stolen Laughters of a Budding Flower

You had always been sad smiles and sorrowful eyes, a regretful gaze that shouldn’t belong to someone as young as you were. Your shoulders were always held back proudly, though when you thought no one was looking (he was, he always was.), they slumped ever so slightly, as though they were bearing the weight of the world. 

(In hindsight, you were, in a sense, bearing the weight of the world.  _ Your _ world.)

Takahiro made it his mission to change that. He was going to find out the source of the sadness you carried, and weed it out. You were a beautiful flower that he wanted to save, to cultivate, and watch it grow, watch it flourish into the best version of itself.

(Instead you had only decayed, the very ecosystem that had given you life, that was meant to help you thrive, was now sucking it back out of you, draining the colors that used to be so vibrant, leaving you a pale, shriveled mess.)

He made the first attempt of getting to know you when you appeared at the cafe he worked at.

“You’re in my english class, aren’t you? I remember seeing you at the back of the class.” He had expected you to continue the conversation there, too used to people falling into the easy charisma he exuded. But all you did was give him a tired smile, and nodded before ordering your coffee and tucking yourself into the corner of the cafe without a second glance.

This only fueled his desire to break past those walls you had set up, and he pushed even as you retreated back. The fifth time you had silently rejected his attempts at being friends, he had slipped past the counter, seating himself opposite you as he set down your drink.

You had only blinked at him, exhaustion dripping from every lazy shut of your eyes. Takahiro had grinned, and began talking, nevermind that you didn’t respond to any of his chatter. He would wear you down, just you wait.

There must have been something he was doing right, despite the fact that you never reached back out to his advances of friendships, you also didn't stop coming to the cafe, nor did you tell him to leave you alone. This prompted him to begin approaching you in class, then moving to the seat next to yours, and eventually walking you home.

The first time you spoke a word to him outside the mindless coffee orders and mundane hums was when you were both working on an english essay, and you had asked if he understood the question. His head shot up so fast that he got whiplash, and that was the first time he heard you laugh. 

Your laugh was beautiful- no, beautiful didn’t even begin to cover how wonderful it was. Your laugh reminded him of sunflowers leaning towards the sun, the gentle crashing of waves on the shore, the way he felt winning a volleyball match. He would do anything to hear that again, even as he shot you a fake scowl for laughing at his pain.

And he did, he got to hear it over and over and over again, as he inched past the wall of thorns you had so carefully cultivated, snuck past all your defenses and jumped headfirst into the hole that led to your heart.

Now here he was, months after the first time he talked to you, heart racing as he led you through the park, fingers loosely intertwined with yours. He hoped you didn’t notice how sweaty his palms were, nor the tense replies he had been giving to you. The worried glances you shot him weren’t missed, but all the awkwardness and tension had been worth it when he revealed the surprise he had planned, your face falling into a state of shock at the fairy lights strung up along the trees, rose petals scattered across the ground. A large banner told you to turn around, and so you did, coming face to face with Takahiro, a shaky smile present on his face as he asked you to be his girlfriend.

(You should’ve said no then, should’ve gone home. But the selfish part of you blurted out a yes, and the way his face lit up almost made it worth it.  _ Almost _ .)

Things should’ve only gotten better from there, and they did, but only for a brief period, before everything started going downhill, one event at a time. It started with you sneaking away to some place, without a word to him. The first few times he had dismissed it as you wanting some alone time, and he was more than willing to accommodate to your needs.

But it kept on happening more frequently, and the weariness in you only increased as your eyebags worsened. He tried to confront you, but was met with the same wall of silence he had come across in the beginning, and there didn’t seem to be a way around it.

You started closing back up again, retreating from him and leaving him cold as you grew quieter, your shoulders turning in upon themselves, your eyes perpetually downcast. 

(He should’ve known then, should’ve seen the signs, but he was a fool in love, and love blinds us all.)

You retreated back into your old self, and Takahiro suddenly found himself locked outside those thorn walls once more, without a key or even a door to knock on. All he wanted to do was love you, so why wouldn’t you let him? 

He hated the miserable look on your face, and the paleness that only seemed to worsen as the weather slipped into the colder seasons. Every cough that passed your lips sent a dagger into his heart, and he hoped that you’ve been taking the medicine he’s been slipping into your bag.

(You can’t, as much as you want to,  _ you can’t _ .)

Takahiro doesn’t understand what he did wrong, what he had done to make you leave him like this, without a word, without a fight. Hell, he would have preferred screaming matches over the suffocating silence that sits between you two now.

It isn’t until you pass out in class that he finally understands. As he cradles your head upon his lap, trembling hands trying to staunch the blood that doesn’t seem to stop flowing from your nose, he finally realizes just why you had pushed him away. His suspicions are only confirmed when he arrives at the hospital with you, and the sinking in his stomach drags him to his knees, his head hurting and his heart aching.

At long last, he had found the reason for your sad smiles and sorrowful eyes, and it isn’t something that he can fix or make go away, Not when it was a terminal disease that ate away at your life, stealing time from a gentle soul who had experienced only a fraction of what life had to offer.

How could life be so cruel? You had done nothing but love and be kind, offering soft smiles and reassuring words to the undeserving world, even when all it had done was to throw you obstacle after obstacle, cruelty after cruelty. Takahiro couldn’t even begin to imagine a world without you, a world without your bright laughter, a life without your love.

When you awoke, drugged up on medicines flowing through the IV drip, he had begun crying once more, and through the tears, he could vaguely see your hand reaching out to his weakly. He grabbed it, and the coldness of it had him breaking even more. 

“Why?” He choked out, clenching his burning eyes shut. “Why didn’t you just tell me?’

“How do I tell the person I’m in love with, the person that I want to marry, that I can’t marry him because I’m dying?” You whispered, your voice cracking.

“I-I don’t-” For once, Takahiro has nothing to say, and it is you who pushes through the dreaded conversation.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, I shouldn’t have said yes then. You should leave, go be with someone better. Someone who you can love with no regrets, someone who can grow old with you.” You squeeze his hand tightly, before loosening your grip, making to let go of him.

But he refuses to let go, clinging onto you desperately. It is with pure, earnest love that he says it, “I would take my year with you, over a lifetime with anybody else. If a few months is all we have left, then let me have them. Let me have every single second you have left, let me love you until then.”

(There is no way you could’ve said no, not when you knew he wasn’t going to give up. Not when your heart ached for him too. This was the last time, you promised yourself. The last selfish choice you will ever make.)

Takahiro did love you, he loved you so fiercely it was easy to pretend that the clock wasn’t ticking, that your time wasn’t running out. And he loved you all through the days you couldn’t even walk, when you were nothing more than a pale, sickly mess in a hospital bed, multiple machines hooked up to your frail body.

(“I’m sorry,” you whispered to his sleeping body on the makeshift cot the nurses had brought in. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”)

You passed away that night, and Takahiro awoke to a pitying look from a nurse. He didn’t hear the words she spoke, his eyes trained upon your still body. You had been fine the previous night, still laughing at his stupid jokes, still smiling at him with that shine in your eyes. And now you were gone, never to smile at him ever again, or to hold his hand, or to throw your stationery at him whenever he said something ridiculous. 

It is with shaking hands that he brings his phone up to his ear, a recording playing. Your laughter fills his ears once more, and he breaks, he shatters, he cries as he mourns you.

You were gone, and he would never get to experience your love again.

  
  
  
  



End file.
